


Regulus' Assignment

by PseudoLeigha



Series: Mary Potter Shorts/Background [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blackmail, Clearly I am still a Pettigrew apologist, Entrapment, I actually feel kind of sorry for Pettigrew, Manipulative Regulus, Mary Potter background, The Death Eaters are all too Slytherin for their own good, Things Harry Potter Doesn't Know, Things Sirius Black doesn't know, plots within plots, semi-epistolary style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9603500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoLeigha/pseuds/PseudoLeigha
Summary: This story is intended to answer the question 'How would Peter Pettigrew and Regulus Black have even known each other, let alone been friendly?'It takes place between September 1977 and December 1978, which would be the Marauders' seventh year and the first six months after they would have graduated and joined the Order.It precedes the chapter *Born to Serve* in 'Coming of Age in the House of Black' and 'The Changing of the Guardian.' I initially wasn't going to publish it, because I felt those stories along with the chapter *Consequences of Judicious Meddling* in 'Mary Potter and the Chained Servant' more or less covered the important points, and gave an impression of why Peter made the choices he did… but then sktheiss over on ff.net asked the question, and it's not addressed in any of the other chapters, so here we are.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Canon characters: Regulus Black (age 16-17); Peter Pettigrew (age 17-18); Bellatrix Black (age 28-29); Sirius Black (age 17); Lucius Malfoy (age 21)
> 
> OC characters: Evan Rosier (Regulus' cousin; Slytherin in his cohort); Peter Pettigrew's mother (mentioned only); Peter Pettigrew's father (mentioned only); Bridget Kelvin (Healer, former Slytherin, a year ahead of the Marauders; mentioned only); Seth Kelvin (Slytherin, Regulus' year; mentioned only); Thanatos Nott (Theo's great-great-grandfather)

“You want me to do _what_?”

“Turn your brother. Or, failing that, I suppose, at least one of his little band of miscreants.”

“ _Why_? Sirius has _never_ supported the Dark Lord – not like I – Why do you want _him_?” Regulus’ face was a study in offended teen dignity and rejection.

Bellatrix gave a long-suffering sigh for the stupidity of children, even those she was related to and didn’t hate as much as the rest of humanity. “That’s the _point_ , Reggie. We need ears inside Dumbledore’s Order, people reporting to us. People the Old Goat _trusts_.”

Regulus pouted at her. It was an honor, of course, to be given _any_ assignment so soon – it was only the beginning of his sixth year, after all. He wouldn’t be allowed to take the Mark until midwinter of his seventh year, at least. Maybe the year after, if the whispers about professors checking arms were true. “But _the Marauders_ , Bella, _really_?”

“If you don’t want the job, Reggie, say it,” she snapped.

“No, no, I’ll take it! I want to help!” And he did. He’d been raised from the cradle to support their way of life, to know that his proper place was at the top of the hierarchy, ruling over muggles and mudbloods. Blacks were princes among wizards – something his so-called _brother_ seemed to have forgotten. Ever since Regulus was old enough to understand that Bella’s Lord was going to give them everything he knew they deserved, it had been his dearest wish to serve. Not at the Dark Lord’s right hand, perhaps – that was Bella’s place – but beside his cousin, certainly, striving to return the House of Black and the aristocracy of the wizarding world back to their proper place. The Dark Revolution was a nice idea, too, but really, to Regulus, it was a matter of pride and a matter of honor. If he had wear a mask and make nice with Blood Traitors to further the Cause, well, he was a Black and a Slytherin. He could do it.

Bella rewarded him with a dazzling, true smile. “Excellent. Use your discretion and keep me informed.”

“I will,” he nodded, patting the pocket where his enchanted mirror lay. Its twin was incorporated into a communication and projection system in the Dark Lord’s private headquarters. To hold such a mirror, as to be offered an assignment like his, was an honor. He suspected it was Bella’s influence which had seen the task assigned to him, rather than to some other Young Death Eater, like Rosier or Kelvin. “Thanks, Bella.”

She nodded. “Get going, it wouldn’t do for you to miss the train, would it?”

“No, ma’am.”

His cousin, almost twelve years older than himself, rolled her eyes at him. “Then _move_ ,” she snapped, pointing at the floo.

He laughed, double-checking that his trunk and his wand were in his pockets before fixing his too-good-for-all-this-nonsense face in place and marching into the fire, already considering which of the Marauders would be easiest to break.

Lupin was a fellow prefect, and therefore the one to whom he would have the best access, but he was also the most honest of the four, and therefore had the fewest pressure-points to manipulate. Potter was a sitting Lord, and no one could miss how he had suddenly become so much more serious and guarded in the last term. He would be practically untouchable. Sirius still felt guilty about leaving him with their parents (clearly not realizing that without Sirius in the house, they were much easier to get along with), but to be honest, Regulus wasn’t sure he could get away with manipulating his brother directly. They did grow up together, after all. Pettigrew, though… it didn’t take a genius manipulator to see that the one they called Wormtail was the weakest link, trying so hard to be as noble and clever as his friends and always falling short… Yes… he would start with Pettigrew, and after that, well… who knew?

* * *

Peter eyed the strange owl rather nervously before taking the proffered letter. It didn’t have the St. Mungo’s crest on it, but he still worried that it would be more bad news about his mother, who really was chronically ill, unlike Hope Lupin. She had a disease called Am-CAS – Auto-Magico Core Annihilation Syndrome – which was slowly eating away at the part of her brain controlling her magic. Her best case prognosis was squibdom within a few years. At worst, Accidental Magical Episodes – normally harmless in children, but exponentially more dangerous in an adult with so much more power at her fingertips, would kill her – or worse, _someone else_ – first. The only thing to be done was to control the results of the AMEs and hope she could ride it out, like they had done for the last ten years.

“Hey, Wormy! Whatcha got there?” Sirius, far too enthusiastic for this hour of the morning, bounced over to the table, like the overgrown puppy he was.

“Dunno. Haven’t opened it yet, have I?”

“Well, what are you _waiting_ for?”

“Your company, obviously.” It wasn’t a very good come-back, but Peter wasn’t really a morning person, and he was distracted by the potential for bad news.

“ _Well_ then,” Sirius grinned and made a grab for the folded parchment. His grin turned to a pout as Peter flinched it away from him, shoving it in a pocket to read later, alone. “Thought you were waiting for me.”

Peter steeled himself. “It… it might be about my mum,” he said quietly. “I want to read it alone, later.”

Sirius’ mood made a startlingly abrupt one-eighty, becoming perfectly supportive so quickly that Peter had to do a double take to ensure that he hadn’t somehow swapped places with James. But no, it was still Padfoot saying, “Tough luck, mate. Let me know if there’s, you know… anything I can do, eh?” and clapping him on the shoulder and passing the kippers. Prongs was still down the table, arguing with Lily and Remus, probably about some prefect thing or other.

Peter didn’t have a chance to read the letter until everyone else was in transfiguration. He alone among his friends had decided that the Trans NEWT was not worth the time and effort expected by their Head of House. It wasn’t that he was particularly bad at the subject – he had managed his Animagus form, after all – but he was planning to work in his uncle’s enchanting workshop when he graduated, and didn’t see the point in wasting twelve hours a week on mostly theory for a subject he would never use outside of Hogwarts. The only NEWTs he really _needed_ were Charms, Runes, and Arithmancy. He was good at Potions, though, and Defense was good sense in times like these, so he was taking those, too.

His first response on reading through the note was anger – how dare he be made to worry for most of the day over something so _trivial_ as this?!

But after a few deep breaths, he reminded himself that no one outside of the Marauders knew how he’d take any anonymous bit of post, and it really wasn’t as trivial as all that:

> _Dear Mr. Pettigrew,_
> 
> _I realize this must seem quite dreadfully forward of me, writing you out of the blue like this, but I desperately need to ask a favor of you: As you are no doubt aware, my brother, Sirius, has moved out of my parents’ home. He didn’t return at all over the summer or last winter hols. I think he stayed with the Potters instead. He won’t answer even my letters and I just… I just need to know if he’s okay._
> 
> _Please, don’t tell anyone I asked you, even Siri. It would do me no favors in Slytherin to have it known that I’m worried for my Blood Traitor brother, and I expect that he wouldn’t be too pleased with me, either, for going around his back like this, but… we never got a chance to talk after, well, everything that happened last summer. I’ve tried, believe me. I mean, my big brother runs away from home, then has some kind of mental breakdown and ends up seeing a Mind Healer for months? What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t even try to make sure he was recovering alright?_
> 
> _I… I know he won’t come home. I wish he would, but I’ve accepted now that it’s never going to happen. He and my parents… they really don’t get on. Fundamental differences. I just want to know he’s really alright. I’ve waited until we’re back at school to send this, hoping that he would take at least one of my letters over the summer, but, well… they all come back unopened. It’s been a whole year, now. I’m worried about him. I only ever see him from a distance. It’s so hard to tell if he’s just faking being okay when he won’t even speak to me. If he’s not alright, he needs help, and this is my last year to convince him to take it._
> 
> _Just… please answer this, even if it’s just to tell me to bugger off. I don’t know you very well, but from what I’ve seen, you’re the only one of your friends I’d trust to do the right thing and tell me the truth if it was necessary to get him proper help, rather than try to protect him and end up hurting him worse. Family is everything to me, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he is still my brother._
> 
> _Thank you for your time, and my sincerest apologies for any inconvenience this request may cause you._
> 
> _Regulus Arcturus Black_

Peter took another deep breath before he began composing a response. He knew all too well the pain of not being able to do anything for the people you loved, but this… this he could do, for Sirius and for Regulus.

> _Dear Mr. Black,_
> 
> _I understand, and you needn’t worry. I won’t mention your note to anyone, and I’m not about to tell you to bug off. I’m glad you care about him. The way he talks, you’d think none of his family do, and like you said, family is everything._
> 
> _I know this last year has been very hard for Sirius, and that it must have been for you as well. I still don’t know if running away was a symptom of his breakdown, or one of the causes, but he does seem to be determined to stick to that decision, regardless. I know he deeply regrets the other things he did while ‘Under the Madness,’ so perhaps in time he will regret that as well. He has indeed been staying with the Potters – he’s looked after and safe._
> 
> _To be perfectly honest, I worry about him sometimes, too. I think he’s recovering okay. He seems to be back to the same carefree self he was before… everything. But I’m not sure that he was ever really very stable. I don’t mean any disrespect to your family, but the Blacks do have a reputation for being a bit… Mercurial. Quite frankly, he always was and still is a bit disconcerting to be around, shifting moods so quickly._
> 
> _The Mind Healer did give him a clean bill of health, though. I saw the letter. So I wouldn’t worry too much on that front if I were you._
> 
> _I know you probably won’t appreciate this, being a Snake and all, but I admire the courage it takes to not give up on someone who insists they’re a lost cause, and the nerve it must have taken to approach any of us Marauders about this. I’m glad you did, and that you haven’t given up on him._
> 
> _Peter Pettigrew_

He sent the letter off that evening, accepting his friends’ condolences and supportive offers to talk if he needed to (neglecting to correct their assumptions that he owl had, indeed, pertained to his mother). He expected that to be the end of it.

* * *

Regulus re-read the letter Pettigrew had sent him for the fifth time. It was… a better start than he had hoped for, to be frank: Hints that family was an easy lever to pull with the Gryffindor, and that acting a bit Gryffindor himself would take him a long way toward earning the older boy’s trust; hints that Pettigrew was already sneaking around the other Marauders a bit, willing to hide their contact, not fully comfortable with his brother – and why should he be? Sirius was arguably worse than Bella when it came to dealing with the Madness. At least she never got _caught_ in the process of killing someone.

He wrenched his thoughts away from that unproductive track. Now that the first contact had been successful, the next step, of course, was to make Pettigrew trust him, see him as a friend. He made a face as he retrieved a fresh bit of parchment from his writing case. Much as he liked playing the game, manipulating Gryffindors was hardly much of a challenge. It just had to be taken _slowly_ and _consistently_.

> _Dear Peter,_
> 
> _I hope you don’t mind the informal address – it seems wrong, somehow, to keep someone who has laid my mind so at rest as yourself at arm’s length. Thank you for letting me know about Sirius’ condition. It really does help, knowing the Healers say he’s well, and that the Potters are taking care of him. If they let my parents know, I certainly haven’t heard anything from that front. Mother resolutely insists that she only ever had one son. She even burned Siri’s name off our Family tapestry, though our Head of House will not see him truly disowned. It’s very sad._
> 
> _My apologies for burdening you with my maudlin talk, and for asking you to go behind my brother’s back on this. It’s just, well… perhaps there’s something to be said for Gryffindor loyalty as well as courage. Virtue is still virtue regardless of Hogwarts House. And Slytherin is a lonely place, with no faith in the confidence of one’s allies. I envy you, sometimes, you and your Marauders. Not that I have any great desire to become one of you pranksters, but you seem such good friends. So supportive of each other. I look at you all coming together for Siri or Potter, and I can’t help but wish I had friends like you. They don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like you looking out for them._
> 
> _Thank you (again),_
> 
> _Regulus_

Regulus skimmed his response over, considering whether he might be laying it on too thick. Pettigrew was bound to be as unsubtle as any other Gryffindor, but would he believe that Regulus was lonely and desperate for his friendship? Hmmm…

He poked his head out into the sixth-year boys’ junction. Only Evan was sitting on the sofas they had transfigured for a bit of a parlor. He would have to do.

“Oi, Rosier! Have a read-through of this for me, eh?”

“Can I copy the Amortentia essay you got off Snape?” Evan asked, not even looking up from his book.

Regulus hesitated only a moment. He couldn’t get away with handing in the exact same essay as Severus had, and so would have to alter at least a few points anyway. “Yes. As long as you keep this between us.”

“Done.” He withdrew to rummage through the scrolls on his desk and make a copy of the essay before joining Evan on the couch.

“Here.”

“What, _now_?”

“Yes, _now_.”

“Ugh, fine, Black. Got a girl on the line or something?” Evan wriggled his fingers for the letter. Regulus snorted, handing it over with copies of the first two communications as well. “Ooh, _Peter_ , is it?”

“ _Or something_. Just trying to get under my brother’s skin a bit. You know, turn all his friends against him one by one, and slowly drive him ‘round the bend… again.”

Evan shot him a sadistic grin. “Aren’t you the clever one? Think another dive off the deep end will finally convince His Nibs to dump the Blood Traitor once and for all?”

Wouldn’t that be a perk? It was highly unlikely to actually happen, though. Sirius couldn’t possibly embarrass the family any more than he already had, and he was _still_ a Black, even if Regulus had gotten the title of Heir-in-waiting. The young Black gave his cousin and sometime-friend a long-suffering sigh. “We can only hope.”

“I hear you. Here,” he handed back the note. “Sign it ‘Reggie’ if you really want to push the familiarity angle. And wait a day or so to send it. It’ll look more like you were conflicted about the whole thing.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Evan.”

Rosier sniggered. “No problem. After all, what are friends for?”

“Someone to take the fall?” Regulus suggested innocently, prompting outright laughter from the other Slytherin.

“Indeed. Essay?”

Regulus handed it over and returned the letters to his room before heading out on prefect patrol.

* * *

To say that Peter was surprised to receive another letter from Regulus might have been a bit of an understatement. No one outside of the Marauders had ever wanted to be his friend, and he could easily imagine never having gotten to know _them_ either, had they not all been assigned to the same dorm. He spent several long hours trying to figure out what the younger Slytherin’s angle might be before he reluctantly decided that maybe the boy really was just lonely.

He was truly happy for the first time in years that the Hat had decided to put him in Gryffindor. Always having to watch your back, even against your own dorm, sounded awful.

He wrote back. It was only polite, after all, and he did feel a bit bad for the kid. It couldn’t have been easy growing up with Sirius for an older brother. Hell, sometimes it wasn’t easy growing up with Sirius for a dorm-mate (the complete arse in question had decided to dry off after his shower that morning by assuming his dog form and shaking all over their shared room. Everything, including Peter’s robes, now smelled like wet dog. They’d had to lie to Evans when she asked why, telling her that he had been practicing a new curse for a prank and it had gone wrong). Plus he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little flattered that Regulus had chosen to write him instead of James or Remus in the first place.

The letters continued to arrive, one or two per week, as the year wore on. Peter came to know Regulus as a lonely, thoughtful boy, concerned about his family’s future – a slightly spoilt boy, perhaps, but also conscientious and even kind. In short, it became clear that Reggie, as he had quickly invited Peter to call him, was not like the other Slytherins – he had admitted that he’d had to argue for Slytherin over _Hufflepuff_ , his desire to rise to his family’s expectations just barely winning out over his loyalty to them. When the Marauders and the Junior Death Eaters got into fights in the corridors, Peter soon realized that Reggie held back, deliberately missing, or using only the most introductory of hexes and jinxes, doing the bare minimum to appear to support his housemates, but obviously reluctant to hurt the Gryffindors. It must be, Peter thought, a dangerous path to walk, torn between fitting in and keeping his conscience clear. He hoped he would never have to do the like – he was sure he never could.

Regulus came to know Peter as supremely gullible. It was the easiest thing in the world, he thought, to lie and lie and lie again, telling a person what they wanted to hear – especially in letters – one hardly had to remember what one had said when it was so easy to make a copy for later reference. He painted a picture for the Gryffindor fool of a retiring younger son. He flattered, teased, and made himself ‘vulnerable,’ and said, in short, all the right things to make a boy who felt belittled by his real friends believe that Regulus _understood_ Peter (which admittedly he did), that he _cared_ about him and his petty problems and inane observations (that, not so much), slowly, slowly undermining his faith in the Marauders.

Rosier, who had realized after several months that there was more to Regulus’ play than petty manipulation of Sirius, liked to tease him that had Peter _had_ been a girl, and getting laid the goal, he’d done enough flirting to get there twice over. In Regulus’ own estimation, girl or boy had nothing to do with it: the rat-faced Marauder was half in love with him, even if he didn’t know it. After all, Regulus had shared his secrets, commiserated with him, and spent months playing to his pride.

_I know how it is, Pete, always being second-best to Siri, even when you know you’re really very good, you’re just too modest to beg for their praise, and he’s there showing off for the attention_.

_Your poor mother! Your father, too, and I’m sorry for your loss, but I just – it must be horrifying, losing control like that, and – your own spouse. My sincerest condolences, to both of you._

_Sometimes I’m scared too, Pete, when I think about what happens after school – but that’s okay: you can’t be brave if you’re never afraid, and I think you’re braver than you know._

Honestly, Regulus would have been offended if he _hadn’t_ managed to cultivate the older (albeit much more naïve) boy’s affections.

* * *

It had taken an entire year’s careful leading-on, and a bribe to Kelvin’s older sister to pass on a particular tantalizing bit of information, but the summer between his sixth and seventh years, the summer after Pettigrew had graduated, Regulus finally nudged the now-ex-Gryffindor into doing something blackmail-worthy: Poor pathetic Peter had requested a favor.

It was a good one, too – for a noble cause. Mrs. Pettigrew was sick, and only becoming sicker as time went on. She had become a real danger to herself and others, and there was nothing the hospital could legally do except isolate her in a room insulated against magical penetration and let her ride out the storm. The results had not been pretty. There was no one left to help Peter or Mrs. Pettigrew. Mr. Pettigrew, Peter’s father, had been the first fatality of his wife’s out of control, adult accidental magic spells, his throat sliced by a flying chunk of broken china on a rare visit to her ward, dead before anyone could reach him to cast a healing charm. Money was tight, but that wasn’t the main problem: Peter was more worried about his mother’s health and sanity. He was certain that if this went on much longer she would go mad or kill herself in one of her fits. All of this Regulus had long since known – he had used it to set the bait for his trap. It seemed he had been successful.

Regulus smiled, shark-like, thinking on that particular letter.

> _I just wish there was something I could do – you know, I told you they have a – a process, I guess, some ritual, one of the trainee healers mentioned, that could help, bind her magic? But it’s dark, and illegal, so they won’t do it? It’s just so frustrating!_
> 
> _I – it makes me want to punch them all in the face, Reg. I would do anything to help her – at this point it’s just a matter of time until she goes squib or her own magic kills her, and waiting is driving her mad. I just wish – I don’t know. I wish there was some way – maybe I could sneak her out of the ward and do the ritual myself? I don’t know anything about ritual magic, though. And I don’t know anyone who does. Do you? Kelvin, the trainee healer, was a Slytherin, I think. Bridget, the year above me. She might have heard about it from someone there._
> 
> _I shouldn’t have asked that. I’ve no right to put any kind of pressure on you like that, regardless of the answer. Forget I did. It’s enough that you listen to me rant on. I can’t talk to any of my other friends about this – James’ parents are dead and Remus’ father has pretty much disowned him, and of course you know about Sirius – they just don’t understand what it’s like to have parents, a family that you care about and would do anything to protect and having to watch them suffer. At least you know, a bit, with Siri and your uncle, what it’s like, seeing someone do something totally self-destructive and not being able to help._
> 
> _It’s just so stupid, Reg, that she should have to suffer because of a stupid law when there is this spell that could help her. That I should be stuck knowing, and still not be able to help. Do you ever have days when you hate everyone and everything so much that you just want to explode? ~~I hate myself for not being able to do something, and my friends for not caring, and everyone else for getting in the way. You might be the only person in the world I don’t hate right now.~~_

The last two lines had been crossed out, but they were still legible, the ink smeared slightly as Pettigrew had obviously sent it in haste, in anger, without thinking of the consequences. And there _would be_ consequences. Like an offer the impulsive boy wouldn’t be able to refuse.

> _Dear Peter,_
> 
> _That’s just horrible, that they have this spell and won’t use it, just because of some stupid old law. And you have every right to ask a friend for a favor._
> 
> _I’ve made some inquiries, and I think I know what Kelvin was talking about. It’s an old ritual, outlawed because, well, 1) it’s ritual magic, but 2) it’s completely irreversible, and it’s about the biggest sin against magic you can commit, making a witch a squib. It’s so bad the lawmakers think that Azkaban is kinder – even when they bind mudbloods’ magic, the ones whose parents think it’s the devil’s work, you know, they use a curse that has to be renewed every seven years, so they have a chance to choose magic, later._
> 
> _That said, your mum’s case is one where they should absolutely make an exception. If you really want, I can put you in touch with some people who might know more about ritual magic in general. It’s an interesting academic area, even if there aren’t many practitioners anymore._
> 
> _Reggie_

The reply came back almost at once.

> _Please. I can’t say how much it would mean to me. Thank you. Thank you. I wouldn’t ask, it’s just – any hope, you know?_
> 
> _Pete_

Regulus sniggered and went to compose a carefully worded letter to Bella. She’d be more than pleased to help him arrange the ritual, seeing as she _was_ the one who’d given him the mission in the first place. Morgan and Mordred, she might even convince the Dark Lord himself to do it if she was bored enough.

Now wouldn’t that be something?

* * *

Bella hadn’t arranged for the Dark Lord to do the ritual himself. She had pointed out that if Regulus wanted to impress the rest of the Inner Circle, he should take this plan to one of them and bargain for their assistance. The Dark Lord, of course, knew that the recruitment of a spy within the Order of the Phoenix was Bellatrix’s idea, but the other lieutenants didn’t, and it would raise Regulus in their esteem if it was known that he had come up with such a clever and ambitious plot all alone. And in all fairness, only the initial idea had been hers: he had done all the work of charming Pettigrew and finding a way to lure him into this trap alone. He had, admittedly, asked Bella to look over his plan, and gave her the occasional progress report, so that she would know he was making progress, but for all intents and purposes, it _was_ his idea.

And it was only right that he should be recognized for it.

Plus, if he chose the _right_ Lieutenant to approach, this would ensure that they didn’t all just see him as an extension of Bella. Of course, his loyalty would always be to her before any of the others, but they didn’t need to know that. If, say, Lucius Malfoy thought that he could use Regulus to undermine Bella, then Regulus could foil any potential plans to unseat her and disrupt their family’s place within the hierarchy of the Dark Lord’s Court.

In fact, Lucius would be a _perfect_ candidate. He would help precisely _because_ he was endlessly ambitious. He would probably try to take all the credit for Pettigrew’s recruitment with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord might even let him believe that he had done so successfully. But Regulus and Bella would be laughing behind his back, because she had already told Him everything about their plan. According to Bella, the Dark Lord thought Regulus’ work thus-far was delightfully amusing, and very promising – though of course he could not be guaranteed a position among the Death Eaters until it had borne fruit.

Plus, Lucius was in charge of recruitment, and that was where Regulus wanted to be assigned. Bella had her fingers in just about everything, but her main focus was on the more militant aspects of the organization: training warriors and assassins, not turning contacts in the Ministry. Bringing Lucius a plan like this would all but guarantee that he would try to win Regulus away from Bella and into service in his sector.

Yes… Lucius Malfoy would be perfect.

* * *

It was a matter of weeks to pull together a plan: Lucius would call in a favor with Thanatos Nott, who would do the ritual itself. He would also arrange access to the hospital at the necessary moment, and arrange for any necessary records to be altered to reflect a ‘natural’ squibbing out. In exchange, Regulus was sure that _he_ would owe his cousin-in-law a favor or two, but he was almost bound to call them in to ask Regulus to spy on Bellatrix or the like, which would only be a bonus: since Bella was already aware of the situation, he could simply let her know when the time came, and they could decide then how to mislead Lucius or not.

Meanwhile, Regulus had to convince Pettigrew to meet with Lucius, to be put in touch with “the contact” (Nott). The latter part would be done under strictest anonymity, with maximum deniability on the account of all parties except Pettigrew. They only needed him to write something incriminating enough that he would believe it could get him into trouble with the authorities. Then they could use that to blackmail him into ever-more-illegal acts, until their hooks were well and truly set, and he had no choice but to spy for them.

> _Dear Peter,_
> 
> _I’ve received a letter from one of my cousins. He’s involved in politics – A.D., of course. One of their goals is more nuanced restrictions on rituals like the one that would help your mother – which means he knows some people who might be able to help you, or at least point you in the right direction. I can introduce you while I’m home for the holidays, if you like._
> 
> _Reggie_

The delay in Peter’s response almost certainly meant that he had taken the time to consider whether he was prepared to actually beg a favor of a representative of the Allied Dark, given his association with the Headmaster his Order, and therefore the Light, but Regulus rarely misjudged a mark, and Pettigrew was no exception.

> _Dear Reggie,_
> 
> _Would you? I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I can’t say I’m eager to jump into politics, and especially not Dark politics, but for mother’s sake…_
> 
> _Well, you know._
> 
> _Thank you, Reg. If this pans out, I’ll owe you, big time._
> 
> _Pete_

Too. _Fucking_. Perfect.

Now all he had to do was arrange the meeting itself; Lucius would lay out the plan and probably squeeze a few favors out of Pettigrew to allay suspicion (not that Pettigrew was cunning enough to _have_ suspicions about this offer that was too good to be true); and then when Pettigrew inevitably realized that he was in over his head and had a crisis of conscience about the whole thing, Regulus would have to soothe his fears and build up his confidence to ensure he attempted to wriggle out of his little problem by himself (only falling in deeper, of course). And after a year and a half of becoming Pettigrew’s closest confidant, that would be child’s play.

Pettigrew would probably still be thanking him, even as he was forced to turn on his childhood friends and betray everything he held dear.

Regulus smirked, in the privacy of his dorm room, taking in the ex-Gryffindor’s grateful reply.

His future was, he congratulated himself, all but assured.


End file.
